6th of Sage’s Vigil, Year of the Horde
We had considered many possible locations to which we might relocate our group of survivors: the zoo, a nearby guards’ barracks, the distant city walls and towers, even the sewers below. In the end, the city fortifications might well prove the safest place. For now, however, we’ve set our sights on a much nearer location: a temple complex of Erathis, located several hundred paces from our present location. It is, by the accounts of the locals, an excellent location: surrounded by stout stone walls and a closed with an iron gate, it contains the main temple, several outbuildings, grounds, and its own well and gardens.
As they say, however, you can’t be sure that a be sure its a ferret up your leg until you take the time to look. That’s certainly not true of Little Viggo, whose claws are quite distinctive. Still, I think the general principle is sound—before we risked moving any of our group there, we had to scout the location for ourselves.
We elected to make our way there, or at least as close as we could manage, via the sewers again. If we were lucky, they reached into the complex itself. If not, we could at least get near enough to dash inside under the dragonkin’s protective enchantment.
And so we descended below, and headed off in the opposite direction than the one we had followed the days before. Once again, the tunnel ran on for a while, and then was barred by a metal grate, the murky water passing through and beyond it before tumbling into some unseen space below.
We discovered no trap door in the ceiling this time (although we did find a riveted iron plate, which we chose not to remove for fear we could not replace it). There was, however, one section of the sewer wall where the brickwork had crumbled and started to give way. I clambered up to the small gap, and peered in. There seemed to be a passage beyond.
Thor and I carefully loosened a few more of the bricks, until the gap was large enough for us each to squeeze through. Holding the torch up, we could see that we had uncovered a short tunnel, opening into some sort of ancient crypt. It was a relic of the long-forgotten undercity perhaps, maybe even an old part of the Temple of Erathis itself. Judging from the dust, the area hadn’t been disturbed in many, many years. A single stone sarcophagus stood near to one wall.
Dirock asked that the light be held closer so that he might read the inscriptions on the tomb. “These here are definitely symbols of Erathis… the coffin contains an ancient knight, although I can’t make out the name. It says he fought in many battles… before dying of… old age, I think.”
Thor leaned forward to take hold of the lid. “Aye, I wonder what’s inside.. gold, perhaps? A magical weapon?” The priest of Kord glared at the dwarf, and pushed aside his hand. “Desecrate not this sanctified burial! By Kord’s iron maul we will not rob the dead!”
“Bow,” said Viggo, “bow and two swords. Maybe one a bastard sword. Maybe scimitars. Not maul, though.”
Dirock turned to the ranger in confusion.
“Yes, I am much sure Kord have a bow and two swords, for in the Kuz Valley this is sign of great manliness, and Kord manly like big cave bear. Except like bear with bow and two swords.” Viggo replied. “Also, Viggo think dwarf is right. Dead is dead, and dead have no need of things they have when not-dead. So let us open stone box and see.”
Dirock raised his voice in anger. “Blashpemy! Do not the dwarves bury their dead with sacred relics to accompany their passage to the afterlife? Would you steal those too?”
“Yer aff yer head, cleric! We dunnae do that. We pass them sorts ay things on tae the clan, so that they too micht use them,” replied Thor. “The dead join Moradin in the great Hall of Thunder, where they bevvy the Mead of Heroes, feast upon the Roast Pig of Bravery, and partake of the Valorous Spiced Haggis of….”
“Yes, ” Viggo interrupted, “but there is no way out.”
At this, both Dirock and Thor turned to the ranger.
“What are you on about?” snapped the cleric. “Of course there is no way out of the afterlife! What faithful warrior would want to forgo the divine rewards of a lifetime of devotion and courage?”
“…there is no way out of here, Viggo means,” the ranger replied, pointing to the cavern around them. Sure enough, it had no apparent exits, other than the passage through which we had just entered. In some places, however, the walls seemed different, as if excreted by the living rock. None of us knew quite what it might mean, although Dirock noted that the followers of Melora were known to seal crypts in a similar fashion. Odd indeed.
During the conversation, I had remained unusually quiet. This was not so much because the issue of the coffin was of no concern (theologically, I agree with my ranger friend: dead is dead), but rather because of a faint noise I thought I could hear. I held my ear to the wall, and finally waved to Viggo to listen as well. There it was again, and getting louder. Some sort of scratching… a digging perhaps?
“Virtuous Arnold!” Viggo pushed me back from the cavern wall, as he stepped back too. His warning almost came too late. With a crash, the wall collapsed, and two hideous creatures sprang at us. Both were the size of large badger, but unlike any badger I had ever seen: six-legged, with reptilian features and the armoured carapace of an insect. They hissed and quickly advanced on us with a whir of sharp claws and biting teeth. I felt a cut to my leg almost immediately. Two larger versions of the creature could be seen lurking deeper in the tunnel. Little Viggo squeaked in panic, and burrowed deeply into my pack.
“Prepare to taste dwarven hammer!” shouted Thor, as he stepped forward to block the breach in the cavern wall. Encouraged by his resolute courage, I retreated, stabbing one creature and sidestepping the other, slowly making my back to where we had entered the crypt. Viggo fired into the melee, as Dirock too joined the fray. From the shadows, I slung rocks at the creatures now attacking the dwarf.
Suddenly Thor grabbed his side, a spike protuding through his armour. One of the larger beasts had launched something at him, and judging from his reaction, it was poisoned too. Nonetheless, he continued to fight, muttering the mantra of dwarven defenders: “Always be ready! Always be waiting!”
As if to highlight the importance of that particular saying, none of us were ready in the slightest for what happened next. Even as the desperate melee continued between Thor and the not-badger-maybe-lizard-bug creatures (more properly known as kruthik, I would later learn), the stone lid of the tomb behind us slowly began to lift. It seems that someone’s long slumber had been awoken by the thunderous booms of Dirock’s divine invocations.
A skeletal figure arose from the sarcophagus. “Grave robbers!” it screeched, “grave robbers!”
The long-dead-knight drew an ancient bow, and fired at Viggo. It missed. Viggo ignored it, and instead focused on the kruthiks to his front. “Grave robbers!” it screeched once more, and fired again. It missed again too. Clearly, whatever heroic figure he had been in an earlier life, this particular knight had not been an archer. It moved to draw its rusty sword in its bony hands.
This was too much for Viggo, who turned his attention to the skeleton and attacked. Immediately upon hitting it, his target collapsed in a pile of bones and dust. It was very, very old, after all.
With this, I dashed across the room, and leapt into the now empty sarcophagus. It provided an ideal sniping position against our opponents. If I found an item of two of value inside it while doing so, so much the better.
Thor, in the meantime, had slain the two smaller kruthik, but had been gravely wounded in the process. He fell to the ground. Only by Dirock’s quick action was he saved, as he channeled the power of Kord to send a wave of powerful healing energy through the badly-battered, bearded, bald body. Once again, we were profoundly grateful to have a cleric in our ranks.
The dwarf regained his feet, and lay into the one surviving kruthik with his hammer. Soon he had felled it too.
“Mmmmmmm,” said the Abzurian, “we must be wary…” Thor snorted. He still looked rather worse for wear, and clearly needed a rest. He would have none of it, however. “Lads, there’s a tunnel back here, that these creatures made. Its a bit short fer the rest of you, but it will give Arnold and I nae trouble at all.”
“First we must rebury this fallen hero,” declared the ever-pious Dirock. We placed the bones back in the tomb—minus a rather nice golden ring that fell into my pocket. After all, dead is dead.
With this grim (but profitable) task completed, we all entered the narrow tunnel. Thor and I went first, while Viggo and Dirock stooped low behind to avoid the low ceiling. The Abzurian tapped his fingers, but this time refrained from murmuring. I doubt he wanted to attract any more of the creatures either.
Clearly, this had all been dug by the kruthik. From time to time, smaller tunnels branched off–a veritable maze. Or, I began to worry, a lair. Here and there, discarded kruthik skins, or the husks of blackened shrivelled eggs, could be seen. This didn’t seem natural, however—it was if some dark power had drawn the life from them. Viggo shook his head. He too was uneasy.
After a short while, we came entered into another chamber—a natural cavern, even larger than the crypt that we had just left. Almost immediately, my concerns were vindicated: there in the light of our torch stood three kruthik young, one of the larger adults—and a huge creature, much larger than all the rest. Shriveled blackened eggs dotted the cavern floor. It was a lair, and the hive queen (or lord–its seemed difficult to tell its sex given the circumstances) appeared very unhappy at our presence.
“Uh oh, lads.. there’s lots of them jaggy creatures here, and a miffed big’un too,” warned the dwarf. “I think maybe we best be getting back now.” With this, Thor readied his hammer, and slowly started stepping back into the narrow tunnel, hoping to use the bottleneck to tactical advantage.
With a hiss and a clatter, the smaller kruthik hurled themselves against us. While Thor bludgeoned the smaller ones as they rushed him down the passage, Viggo and I focused our efforts on the adult, bringing the beast down before it could close and fire its toxic spikes at us. The queen, however, hung back a while, apparently gathering the eggs and moving them to a safer location.
“Perhaps one of ye could fight fer spell.. I could do with a wee rest,” gasped the bloodied Thor, as he stepped into a side tunnel. Viggo readied his swords and stepped forward, whispering a greeting to the Raven Queen beneath his breath as he did so. Like the rest of us, he too thought this might be the end.
The hive queen returned, chittered menacingly, and skittered across the cavern towards us. Rather than press into the narrow passage, however, it leapt up and out of sight. A scratching sound could be heard. It seemed likely that it was burrowing through the ground above us, hoping to take us all by surprise.
“Let’s not wait for it for it… I vote we retreat to the crypt!” I suggested, as my mind turned (as it so often does) to escaping with my life.
“How fast can it burrow?” asked Dirock.
Viggo turned, and replied. “Little Arnold right. I don’t know how fast creature dig, but Viggo can run like baa-baa mountain goat when big monster close!” He then started to run back the way we had come. We all followed suit.
Arriving at the crypt, we quickly assumed defensive positions. Weapons in hand, we waited.
Seconds passed.
Then minutes.
Nothing. It seemed that the hive queen had stopped its pursuit.
“Perhaps it no like the stink of its dead..” commented Viggo, as he kicked one of the kruthik carcasses on the floor with his heavy boot. “Or perhaps it afraid of dwarf-bottom!” He laughed, slapping Thoradrin on the back. “Dwarf bottom very scary from behind!” Indeed, it wasn’t often we had seen the dwarf run from a fight.
“A dead defender is just a dead defender, lad,” Thor replied in a grim tone. “And if I were dead.. Arnold would be prying me cloak and hammer out of me gauntlets afore I hit the floor!” Beneath the beard, he grinned and winked in my direction.
“Perhaps it is best that we rest,” suggested Dirock, “before we attempt to slay this beast.” We all nodded in agreement. Our safe refuge in the cellar of the armoury was but a few minutes away, along the sewer. There we would find water, and somewhere safe to treat our wounds—as safe as anywhere could be in the nightmare that was now the once-proud city of Phirul.
